


And That's The Story of How You Were Born

by Cyberwulf



Category: 'Allo 'Allo!
Genre: Cuckolding, Drag, F/M, Married Couple, Multi, Robbery, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-08-19 20:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16541249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberwulf/pseuds/Cyberwulf
Summary: Or, how Gruber and Helga managed to have six kids.





	1. Chapter 1

Hubert poured another glass of cognac and had a mouthful, casting a glance towards the ceiling. Upstairs, in their bed, Helga was waiting for him. After a year of marriage, she had broached the subject of children. He had warmed to the idea of a son he could take camping, a little girl who looked just like Helga, a grandchild for their parents to dote on. Helga had a tender, vulnerable side that he had never seen during the war, but that he had come to know over the last couple of years. She would make a good mother.

There was, however, a very big problem. They had shared a bed since their wedding night, but sleeping and cuddling did not result in babies. And he had never really been… _able_ , with women – at least, not without closing his eyes and thinking very hard about someone else. Helga liked men, and she liked sex, and he suspected it was not just a desire for children on her part. She had been seeking more affection from him lately, gazing at him longingly when she thought he wasn’t looking. She was no fool, she knew how he was, and yet no matter how low her expectations were he would still fail to meet them. He might not be able to finish – or worse, be able to start. He had been down here for half an hour trying to calm his nerves and get in the mood, but if he kept calming them much longer he would be too drunk to do anything but pass out next to her.

For a moment he was seized by the desire to just grab the bottle and gulp the contents down till he was incapable of even climbing the stairs. Immediately he was ashamed and angry with himself. He had to think of Helga. _I will have to marry someone, and you are the only man I can trust_ , she’d said, and she’d meant it. She was a good wife and a good business partner, and marrying her had set all his parents’ fears about him at rest. He would never be the kind of lover she wanted, but he could give her a baby. She _deserved_ a baby, and some semblance of normal married life. It was time for him to be a man. Downing the rest of his drink, he grabbed his keep fit magazine and strode upstairs.

“Helga! I am ready!”

He flung open the bedroom door and stopped in his tracks. By the window, a well-built young man stood with his back to him, smoking in the dim light.

The magazine slipped from his grasp.

“…Helga?”

“Call me Helmut,” she murmured in a gravelly voice.

“…Oh.”

Wetting his lips, Hubert crossed the threshold and approached her. He had forgotten how tall she was, even without her heels. Her shirt and trousers fit quite well, showing off a firm, almost muscular backside. Moving closer, he smelled a rather enticing aftershave. She had flattened her breasts and when he tentatively ran his hands over them, he could almost swear they were muscles.

“Oh, Helga.”

She glanced at him.

“I did not want you to have to get drunk and grit your teeth,” she murmured. Leaning forward on the windowsill, she pushed her bottom against him. “Come, undo my trousers.”

He wanted to cry. She had gone to such trouble to make him feel comfortable, and was prepared to take it standing up so that he could finish the task as quickly as possible. It wasn't right. He pulled her upright and turned her to face him.

“…A moustache?”

Helga touched the false whiskers on her upper lip. “I know you like them.”

With a smile, he took her by the hand and sat on the bed, pulling her into his lap.

“We barely know each other, Helmut.” He clasped his hands around her waist. “Let us kiss a little first.”

Her eyes lit up and she leaned down, running her hands through his hair as she crushed her lips to his. She tasted of tobacco, smelled of smoke and aftershave and just the faintest hint of sweat. The false moustache tickled his skin, adding to the illusion. Hubert ran his hands up her back, then down to her rear, cupping it experimentally. Oh, she made a convincing man, and he was starting not to mind that one or two things were missing. Indeed, as she moved to straddle him, the most important part of him did not mind at all.

“The last time we were in this position, you did not like it very much,” she chuckled.

“Ah, but then you were not dressed so handsomely,” he teased back.

Helga smiled and reached for his shirt, slowly popping the buttons one by one. He nipped at her neck while she ran her hands over his bare chest. Her weight shifted on his growing erection, making him groan. She paused and gave him a questioning look.

“Take off your trousers,” he whispered.

He could do this.

***

Hubert Junior is a macho man, absurdly so, and his parents can't help but wonder if it is because of how he was conceived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by a fic I read where Gruber had to get good and drunk to sleep with Helga and cried during it and threw up afterwards, all while Helga took sick pleasure in his obvious distress. I'm not here to kink- or headcanon-shame, but I found that very sad and awful and wanted to make it nice.


	2. Chapter 2

The fence, Herr Schmittelhof, reminded Helga very strongly of Herr Von Smallhausen. He was crawling and full of flattery, but sly too, and insecure around taller, better looking men. He had not had the presence of mind to conceal his envy when he had first seen her on Hubert’s arm, which had given her the idea for her current plan. And so far everything was unfolding just as she had predicted. Schmittelhof also did not have the presence of mind to wonder why it was that she was home alone, in her dressing gown, to finalise the deal for the lost Rubens. He had handed over the agreed-upon sum and eagerly gulped down the wine she had offered him. It had taken only a few breathy words to get him out of most of his clothes, and now he was leaning towards her, gazing lasciviously at her bosom.

“Now, my dear,” he murmured, “shall we go upstairs?”

Helga almost pitied him. She flashed him her most seductive smile, casting an admiring glance at his tenting underwear. If he were not so small and rat-like, she would have taken him up on the offer.

“Oh, but this couch is so _comfortable_ ,” she purred, running her hand along the soft material. She shed her dressing gown and leaned back against the armrest, clad only in a scant nightdress. Herr Schmittelhof almost dribbled. He leaned down towards her, lips seeking hers –

Right on time, the door opened. Helga gasped, causing Schmittelhof to look round. Hubert stood in the doorway, staring at the sweaty and incriminating tableau.

For a few seconds, a deathly silence hung in the air. Then, suddenly, it was shattered.

“…Get your hands off my WIFE!”

Schmittelhof practically leaped off the couch as Hubert advanced on him with a face as black as thunder. The art dealer glanced between husband and wife, confusion warring with fear, and for a terrifying moment Helga thought they had been rumbled. But then Hubert drew his gun, and Schmittelhof folded like a deckchair.

“Herr Gruber – Herr Gruber, please –” Hubert grabbed the smaller man by his undershirt and put the gun to his temple. Taking her cue, Helga sprang off the couch and grabbed his arm.

“Hubert, no!” she begged, slapping at him pathetically. “Do not hurt him!”

“It is not my fault, Herr Gruber!” Schmittelhof wailed. “She tried to seduce me! I am weak!”

Hubert glared at her, then swung his hand in her direction. Helga threw herself on the floor with a cry.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Schmittelhof wheedled. “I, I will take my money, you will keep the painting, and we can forget this ever happened!”

Hubert glared at him, then lowered the gun.

“You will leave with your trousers and your life,” he growled. He shoved the smaller man to the floor and turned his attention to Helga. “As for _you_ …” He stared at her coldly. “…be thankful our son is upstairs.”

Helga turned and sobbed theatrically into the couch cushions. She did not stop until she heard the front door close.

“We have done it, Helga!” Hubert was ecstatic, his eyes shining as he put the gun away. “We have the money and the painting!”

Helga jumped up, clapping her hands in glee. “It has all gone off perfectly!” She looked him up and down appreciatively. “You were very convincing as my violent, jealous husband.” In fact, she felt a little weak at the knees thinking about it. She was not used to him being so… forceful.

And then suddenly she had a dreadful thought – one which she could not believe had not occurred to her earlier.

“We have just robbed a man at gunpoint,” she murmured. She gazed up at him in fright. “What if Schmittelhof goes to the police?”

“The police are already at his house,” Hubert replied. Helga stared at him as a self-satisfied little smile appeared on his face. “Someone has alerted them to the stolen Monet hanging on his living room wall. There is quite a substantial reward for it.”

Helga gulped as her legs threatened to give way. She could not remember ever being so excited, not even with Herr Flick. Never had she dreamed that such ruthlessness and cunning was lurking within her sweet, gentle husband. She flung herself into his arms, kissing him fiercely… and discovered that she was not the only one who was excited.

“…Oh, _Hubert._ ”

He pushed her away from him slightly, gazing down at her with dark, stormy eyes.

“Bend over that couch.”

Shuddering in anticipation, Helga obeyed.

***

They name the baby Otto. It seems appropriate, somehow.


	3. Chapter 3

“Rome is so beautiful,” Helga sighed, clinging to Hubert’s arm. “I am glad we waited to have our honeymoon.”

“As am I,” Hubert agreed. They had not been able to afford much of anything when they first got married, and he had wanted to take Helga somewhere special. A lucky find here, a gullible seller there, and a fire that had happened just long enough after the first insurance payment to not arouse suspicions had left them much better off. It was only their first day in Italy, and already he was convinced that it was a good choice. They had had a nice dinner in a charming little restaurant, the sun was warm on their backs, and Helga had managed to finagle them a much nicer room than the hotel was originally willing to provide.

(“When you are a woman, crying gets you everything,” she had explained with a wink afterwards.)

A couple of Italians wolf-whistled as they passed. Hubert put his arm around Helga’s shoulders and shot them his iciest glower. Not that Helga needed protecting – indeed, she was basking in the male attention – but she liked it when he was possessive.

“It is nice not to be Mummy for a week,” she remarked.

“I hope your mother will be all right with Tank and Otto,” Hubert replied. Frau Geerhart adored her grandsons (and the birth of the boys had certainly softened her disposition towards him), but she was getting on in years.

Helga rolled her eyes. “If you do not stop calling young Hubert ‘Tank’,” she warned, “I will not allow you to name the next one.”

“…The next one?” Hubert asked with a grin. Helga blushed and looked away. He gave her a little squeeze. “Helga! It has not been twenty-four hours, and you miss being Mummy already.” 

Helga shot him a sour look, and he could not resist teasing her a little more.

“We could send for them, you know,” he remarked innocently. “Already I can hear their little voices. ‘Mummy I’m huuungry, Mummy I’m booored, Mummy he’s touching meee…” 

Helga put her hand over his mouth.

“In here, Daddy,” she groaned. “Mummy needs a drink.”

She tugged him into a small bar at the end of the street. It was a small, cosy place, not too crowded, and not unlike a little French café where they had both spent many happy evenings.

“I must powder my nose,” Helga declared. “Get me a nice glass of wine.”

She disappeared towards the rear of the establishment and Hubert made his way to the bar. He glanced at her as she weaved her way through the tables, feeling slightly envious as some of the patrons gawked at her. It had been a few months since _he_ had turned any heads –

“Hey, nice shoes! Pretty boy!”

He spun around, the words _I want that man’s name_ on the tip of his tongue, and found himself face to face with a rather handsome Italian.

“Lieutenant Gruber!” the man exclaimed with a wide smile, opening his arms in greeting. His round face was framed by shaggy dark hair, and he sported a manly five-o’clock-shadow. “It’s me, Corporale Caponi!” At Hubert’s blank look, he explained, “I was with the Capitano Bertorelli in Nouvion.”

“Oh, yes,” Hubert replied. He recognised the corporal now… although he did not remember him being quite so good-looking. “Forgive me, I did not recognise you out of…” He nearly baulked at the word. “…uniform.”

The ex-corporal smiled.

“I clean up nice, uh?” he said, pointing his thumbs at himself. “I cook the pasta for a living now, I make the good money.”

Hubert nodded, looking him up and down. It seemed that, in this case at least, clothes did make the man. The corporal had never piqued his interest dressed in the laundry heap that passed for an Italian army uniform, but now, in a fine quality shirt and a tasteful gold chain…

“You know…” The other man leaned on the bar and lowered his voice. “…I always feel like I miss my chance with you.” He gave Hubert a look that was positively hungry. “Pretty boy in the sexy uniform.”

Hubert felt his cheeks heating up. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling a flutter of anticipation, and a stir of something else further down.

“My place, she is not far from here,” the Italian murmured. His breath was warm, and Hubert felt a stray finger brushing the inside of his thigh. His shudder was equal parts desire and disappointment. At any other time – but he was here on his honeymoon!

“Corporal –”

“Claudio,” the other man purred.

“Claudio…” Hubert hesitated, unsure of how to explain himself. Before he could continue, Helga appeared.

“Hubert, who is your friend?”

“Ciao, baby!” Immediately Claudio seized her hand and kissed it. “The beautiful Private Helga, no? I recognise the great legs.”

“Helga, this is Corporal Caponi,” Hubert explained, his heart sinking while Helga giggled at the attention. “He was stationed in Nouvion with Captain Bertorelli.”

“Call me Claudio,” the Italian murmured, stroking his thumb over her fingers. He stopped and squinted at her ring, then glanced around nervously. “You, ah, here with your husband?”

“Well…” Helga glanced at Hubert with a smile.

Claudio frowned and looked from one to the other.

“No!” he exclaimed in shock. “You get married to _her_?”

Hubert squirmed uncomfortably.

“I am afraid so,” he mumbled, cringing a little at the angry glance Helga sent his way. Claudio gazed at them for a moment longer… then a sly smile appeared on his face and he put his arms around both their shoulders.

“So, how long you stay in Rome?” he asked. “Maybe Claudio can show you both something new.”

Hubert gulped and shot Helga a pleading look. She bit her lip and took his hand, her eyes alight with mischief and excitement.

“Let us all have a drink,” she suggested, “and see where the night takes us.”

***

Nine months later, Claudia is born. She looks just like her father, and that makes her Daddy’s special girl.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of the front door opening and closing took Helga by surprise. She was not expecting Hubert back so early. He had said he would be meeting a buyer, but the fragrance of aftershave and the excitement in his voice told her otherwise. Perhaps his plans had changed. Swallowing her unease, she went back to her book, but the words swam before her eyes.

 _I will be the best kind of wife. One who does not mind when you come home smelling of another man’s cologne._ How easy it had been to say those words when they did not share a bed and three children. And it _had_ been easy to shrug off the occasional “business trip” to certain cities. She had even weathered one very awkward conversation followed by an even more awkward visit to the doctor. But this was different. For over a year now, at least once a month he had a meeting, or a trip, or was working late. But she knew. It was always the same man, and… and Hubert always had the same look on his face. The look he had back in Nouvion, whenever he was with René.

The look he would never have for her.

With a huff, Helga slammed her book shut and put it on the dresser. She pulled the blankets around herself, waiting for his step on the stair and the sound of running water in the bathroom as he washed away the traces of his other life.

The minutes ticked by, and still there was no sign of him. Helga frowned. He always came to bed, unless he stayed out all night. Shrugging on her dressing gown, she crept downstairs.

Hubert was sitting in the kitchen, an open bottle and a half-empty glass in front of him. His slumped posture told her immediately what had happened.

“He has left you,” she murmured. “Hasn’t he?”

Hubert looked at her, eyes red-rimmed and watery, and nodded.

Helga joined him at the table, lacing her fingers through his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

Hubert gulped and took a deep breath.

“He too is married,” he murmured. “I thought… another married man would understand that… that my family had to come first.”

Helga could guess the rest. 

“He has put his family first?”

Hubert sighed.

“His wife is pregnant with their second child,” he said haltingly. “She knows that something is wrong. The worry has made her ill. So, he has ended things between us.” He began to shake. “I cannot blame him…”

He burst into tears and buried his face in his hands. Helga wrapped her arms around him, surprised by the depth of her hatred for a man she had never met.

“Oh Hubert, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. She rubbed his back while he cried, and tried to ignore the feeling of relief that was warring with her sympathy for him. At last he began to calm down, his breathing evening out.

“It will be all right,” Helga said, because that was what a wife was supposed to say to her distraught husband. She had to force out her next words. “You – you will meet someone new.”

He shook his head.

“I must face facts, Helga,” he said with a sigh, sliding his arm around her waist. “I have a wife and three children. I cannot ask a single man to settle for such a small part of my life.”

Suddenly it felt as though a rock had dropped into her stomach.

“Come to bed,” she whispered into his hair, and managed to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“Soon,” he replied, patting her back. “I… I need to sit for a while.”

Reluctantly, Helga pressed a kiss to his temple and stood up. He gave her a weak smile as she paused by the kitchen door.

“I will be up soon,” he assured her.

But two hours passed by before she was awoken by the thud of him hitting the mattress, halfway undressed and all the way drunk. With a sigh, Helga tugged off his trousers and covered him up. She curled up against him while he snored into the pillow, and did not sleep for a very long time.

The next day she kept the children away until he emerged from the bedroom late in the afternoon, looking equal parts queasy and sheepish. She made for him his favourite dinner, and when she set the plate in front of him he stood up and kissed her. He played with Hubert and Otto and sat Claudia on his lap, letting her bash at the piano keys with her chubby little hands. It was not until the children were in bed that he showed any sign of heartbreak. Helga came downstairs to find him slumped on the couch, weeping silently behind the newspaper. She slid onto the couch beside him and squeezed his knee. With a quiet sigh, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Helga rested her head on his chest, stroking his stomach with her hand. He was getting soft there, it suited him. She was at a loss for what else to do. How _did_ one console one’s husband when his boyfriend left him?

The answer, it seemed, was very little. Over the next few days Hubert seemed to pull himself together with almost no effort on her part. He did not drown his sorrows and she no longer found him crying when the children were safely asleep. Yet even as he returned to normal, her sense of trepidation only grew. For the past year, he had been _happy_. And now that she knew the difference between Hubert happy and Hubert merely _content_ , she was not sure she could bear it. 

His words _I must face facts, I have a wife and three children_ haunted her at night. It was she who had suggested that they get married. It was _her_ feelings which, somewhere between being pregnant with young Hubert and seeing big Hubert hold Claudia for the first time, had grown beyond friendship. He had chosen her and the children this time. What if next time he chose differently? Worse still, what if he grew to resent her?

The more she thought about it, the more she came to realise that there was only one way to give him everything he wanted… but the thought of it made her heart twist. So instead she did the next best thing.

He was smoking in his study and the children were asleep. Helga leaned on the doorframe, glad he had not noticed her yet. Breasts flattened, tight trousers – stuffed, to show off a little – moustache. That cologne he liked. She pitched her voice as low as possible.

“Are you coming to bed, you great big hunk of man?”

Hubert looked round in surprise, then gazed at her for a few seconds – standing there in ridiculous drag, a poor imitation of what he truly desired. She shook the thought away and did her best to look confident. “I am Wolfgang, and I am on the prowl.”

With a smile, he put out his cigar and stood up. Helga moved a step closer as he approached and put his hands on her hips.

“You are a good wife,” he murmured, and a wave of self-loathing washed over her.

“No I’m not,” she spat, taken aback by her own vehemence. “A good wife would want you to be happy.”

He looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze.

“We have a spare bedroom,” she explained, and did not think of how cold the bed would be without him, or how it would feel to see him cuddling a young man on their sofa. “We could be Mummy, Daddy and Daddy’s friend.” With a gulp, she risked looking at him. “You will not have to lead a double life when next you fall in love.”

She had expected him to be overjoyed. Instead he heaved a sigh.

“I appreciate that very much, Helga, but it is not that simple,” he replied. “He would have to love the children. He would have to understand how deeply I care for you. It is a lot to ask of a single man.”

Helga stared at him, blood rushing in her ears.

“C… care for me?” she whispered.

He looked at her as if she had two heads.

“Of course,” he answered. “You are my wife.”

Her throat was closing up.

“…Oh.”

Hubert frowned, then his expression changed to one of shock.

“Oh – oh, Helga –” He reached for her and she moved back, because if he held her now she would cry, and she did not want him to make a decision just because she was crying. But he was too fast for her. He crushed her against him and she crumbled.

“I’m sorry, Hubert,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to…”

He rocked her gently.

“You should have told me,” he murmured reproachfully, rubbing her back. “I would not hurt you for the world. There will be no-one else, I promise. You are man enough for me.”

Helga clenched her fingers in his shirt and allowed herself a brief moment of joy. But she knew he could not hold him to that promise. And knowing that he cared about her, that she held a special place in his life, somehow made her feel better. The tension she had been feeling the last several days unwound and slipped away. She took a deep breath and dried her eyes.

“You should keep looking,” she replied, and found to her surprise that she meant it. “If someone truly loves you, he will love the children. And I will be a friend to him, because he makes you happy.”

Hubert cupped her cheek, brushing away a stray tear.

“Did I not say you were a good wife?” he murmured. She nodded, and a note of steel crept into his voice. “Then do not argue with me in the future.”

She blushed. “No, Herr Lieutenant.”

“Now…” He kissed her forehead. “…let us go upstairs…” He eyed her up and down with a chuckle. “…Wolfgang. You have gone to a lot of trouble; it would be a shame if it was for nothing.”

Helga felt as though she should tell him it was all right, he did not have to, but the truth was she needed him right now. And he _had_ warned her not to argue.

“You like what you see?” she growled, pressing against him.

“…All except one thing.” Hubert reached up and undid her hair, combing it out with his fingers till it hung down her back. She stared at him in astonishment and he smiled. “I like long blonde hair.”

***

Hubert is by her side when she brings Erich into the world, and he does not even faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - I had to do a complete teardown and rewrite on this chapter. Kids 5 and 6 should be a little easier. Thanks for your patience.


	5. Chapter 5

Leaving the colonel – he still thought of him that way, even though the war was long over – to take the nanny home, Hubert gently shut the front door and crept up the staircase. He joined Helga as she peeked through the door of the nursery.

“Is not the best part of having children paying someone else to watch them for a few hours?” he murmured, sliding his arms around her.

Helga turned and shot him a teasing smile.

“You cannot fool me,” she whispered. “I saw you on the telephone at the restaurant, telling them goodnight.” She tapped him playfully on the nose. “You big softie.”

She moved out of his embrace and down the landing to their bedroom. Hubert followed… right after checking on the rest of their brood.

He shed his jacket as he crossed the threshold and hung it up in the closet. Helga was sitting on the bed, her mink stole beside her.

“Unzip me?”

He obliged her and turned his attention to his shirt buttons. They had had a nice evening out – dinner and a show. It was their first since Erich was born, and he knew that Helga had badly needed it. It was not just a break from the children, but the chance to dress up in her finery and turn some heads – to be _Helga_ , instead of just Mummy. 

He pulled on his pyjamas and carefully hung up his clothes. Turning towards the bed, he saw that Helga had slipped into a very short, figure-hugging, peach satin nightie. It was not a garment he had seen before, and it made him uneasy, though he did not quite know why.

“Is that new?”

Helga blushed a little and looked away coyly.

“Oh – I saw it when I was shopping for the boys’ school clothes,” she replied. “I thought it looked a bit special. What do you think?”

Hubert managed not to groan. He wished she would not ask him his opinion of her attire – he had no sense for female fashions. Still, he cast his eye over her and did his best.

“The colour suits you,” he ventured. It did not seem enough, but when he looked more closely he noticed something else. “You have lost weight.”

There was a fleeting look of disappointment on Helga’s face before she smiled. “Really?” She looked at herself in the full-length mirror by the bed. “I haven’t been trying.”

Hubert breathed a sigh of relief. “That is a shame,” he replied, patting his stomach. He was not _fat_ exactly, but army life _was_ ten years ago. “I was going to ask for your secret.”

“Oh.” Helga climbed into bed and pecked him on the cheek. “Still handsome.”

He switched off the lights and joined her under the covers. 

“Goodnight, Helga.”

“Goodnight, Hubert.”

She shivered and cuddled close to him, resting her head on his chest. Hubert put his arm around her, idly stroking his thumb over the thin strap of her nightie. He was not surprised she was cold, wearing such a skimpy little thing that barely covered her thighs. It was like something a woman would wear if she –

_…Oh._

 

Helga’s skimpy little nightdress haunted him the following day. Their marriage had given him four beautiful children and a level of camouflage and safety that he could never have imagined. In return he had done his best to be a good husband. They had plenty of money, a big house, servants. He took her out and showed her off. He was not cold to her – he liked to cuddle with her, and from the time they had first shared a bed he had not had a single nightmare about René’s dead twin brother. But there was still one thing he could never give her. The sight of her in lingerie would never prompt him to pounce on her and tear it off. Always she had to disguise herself as Helmut or Wolfgang or Fitz to get his attention. He was sure too that she had had no other lover but him since their honeymoon in Rome. It was most unfair that he had _his_ fun and she did not.

Unless, of course… he found her a man. Someone who would rip that little nightie off with his teeth and treat her like a woman.

It did not take Hubert long to hit upon a good candidate.

 

The big evening had arrived. It was all Hubert could do to stay out of the kitchen and from under the cook’s feet. Instead he busied himself checking that everything was neat and tidy, and that there were enough cigars and brandy on hand.

“Hubert!” Helga walked into the parlour, smiling at his fussing. “For what reason are you so nervous? I know that you do not see Clarence as often as you would like because his work as a travelling salesman takes him all over the country, but it is not as though you have not seen him since the war.”

“That is true,” Hubert admitted. “But this is the first time I have invited him to dinner since we bought the new house.” He cleared his throat and tried his best to be casual. “I simply want the evening to go well.”

Helga regarded him for a moment.

“Very well,” she replied. “You may keep your secrets for now. I shall wheedle them out of you later.”

Before he could reply, the doorbell rang. Hubert hurried to answer it.

“Clarence!”

“Hubert!”

The younger man stepped over the threshold and embraced him. Hubert took a moment to appreciate the fact that Clarence _had_ maintained his military levels of fitness. Trim, blond, and handsome, he was in no hurry to abandon the bachelor lifestyle – much to the heartbreak of several women around the country. Hubert moved aside as Helga approached.

“You remember Helga, my wife?”

“How could I forget?” Clarence took Helga’s hand and brought it to his lips, provoking a smile and a little giggle.

“Welcome to our home,” Helga replied. “Please come this way. Dinner is almost ready.”

Clarence dutifully followed Helga to the dining room. Hubert lingered in the hallway for a moment, admiring the view with a little envy, before joining them.

He made small talk during the soup course, discreetly observing his dining companions. He had of course thoroughly briefed Clarence before extending this invitation, and his former driver was accordingly acting as though he were on a first date. He was flirtatious but not overly so, mindful that Helga’s husband was present. And Helga was flattered by the attention, as Hubert had known she would be. All that remained was for the colonel to play his part.

Right on cue, just as the maid cleared away the soup bowls, there was a knock at the door.

“Herr Gruber,” the colonel declared as he entered the room, “there is an urgent telephone call for you!”

“Oh!” Feigning surprise, Hubert wiped his lips and stood up. “Please forgive me, Clarence, I must attend to this. Helga, kindly look after our guest?” She looked at him quizzically and he continued, “You may continue with the meal, this is likely to take some time.”

He shut the dining room door behind him and headed for his study, then doubled back through the scullery and entered the rear garden. He lit a cigar and inhaled deeply, blowing a long jet of smoke into the cool night air.

The colonel trailed outside after him, lighting a cigarette of his own.

“I must say, Hubert, I find this all very strange.”

Hubert eyed him for a moment and stood up a little straighter.

“Well, Erich, say nothing of this to anyone, and you will keep your job.”

The older man deflated slightly. “Yes, Herr Gruber.”

It was perhaps a little cruel to make such a threat, but one could never be too careful, particularly where the reputation of one’s wife was concerned. Besides, he derived a certain satisfaction from ordering around his former commanding officer. Truthfully, sometimes he wished the colonel were a little younger and not quite so fat – being in charge of him would be rather fun.

The colonel finished his smoke quickly and shuffled back inside, muttering something about his rheumatism. Hubert remained, taking his time over his cigar. By the time he returned to the dining room – the cook having kept the rest of his meal warm for him – Helga and Clarence had retired to the parlour for brandy and cigars. He finished his food at a leisurely pace before going to join them.

He entered the parlour to find Helga giggling, a gentle blush on her cheeks as Clarence murmured to her, his large, strong hand on her knee. Hubert resisted the urge to jump up and down in glee. Instead he discreetly cleared his throat, drawing their attention as he slid onto the sofa.

“Forgive my absence, Clarence, it was a very important phone call,” he remarked by way of apology. “I trust Helga has kept you entertained?”

“Oh, yes.” Clarence put a little distance between himself and Helga, as was only respectful. “A most gracious hostess.”

The rest of the evening passed convivially, Clarence once again kissing Helga’s hand when the time came for him to depart. Everything seemed to have gone according to plan. All he had to do was to uncover Helga’s thoughts on the matter.

“I _am_ sorry you had to occupy Clarence by yourself for so long,” he remarked as they got into bed. “I hope it was not too inconvenient.”

“No, not at all,” Helga replied, getting comfortable next to him. “Though I must say, he was rather forward for a man left alone with the wife of his former commanding officer.”

“Yes, well…” Hubert reached out and played idly with her hair. “…that is because I told him we have an understanding.”

Helga looked at him in surprise and delight.

“Oh, Hubert!” She grinned at him devilishly. “I _knew_ you were up to something. You have got for me a man?”

“Did you like him?” Hubert asked, hoping the answer was yes. He did not know many single men any more, and he was not prepared to trust a stranger with his wife.

“He’s very handsome,” Helga answered, to his relief and joy. She blushed a little and ducked her head before continuing, “While in Nouvion, did you ever see him, as it were... out of uniform…?”

Hubert nodded, humming a little at the memory of barracks life. “I assure you, he is very well-built.”

He felt a little shiver go through her. 

“He sounds most suitable.” Abruptly Helga frowned and blew out an exasperated breath. “Oh, but I have not time for an affair! I have four children and a household to run.”

She thumped her head against the pillow with a huff. Still, Hubert had anticipated this, and deployed the backup plan.

“Well," he murmured innocently, "what if I were to take the children to see my parents for a week, and Clarence were to… keep you company?”

Helga looked at him, then looked away quickly, biting her thumb.

“Are you sure?” she asked, excitement clear in her voice. “We could share him.”

Hubert sighed. “I am afraid that Clarence only likes girls.”

She rolled over to face him. “Really? No hanky-panky in your little tank?”

“Not, I regret, with Clarence,” Hubert replied.

“Oh.” Helga moved closer, tracing little patterns on his pyjama jacket. “…A week?”

“A week,” Hubert promised. “Clarence has quite the reputation as a lady-killer. I am sure you will enjoy him.”

“Oh, do not say any more,” Helga pleaded. “I will not be able to control myself.”

He chuckled at her eagerness. “Then I will make the arrangements.”

 

Hubert’s parents were always thrilled to see their grandchildren, though he did wish his father would not parade them in front of the neighbours, exclaiming “Now who is the big nancy-boy?!” That aside, it was quite a pleasant week. Grandma doted on them all, particularly Claudia and little Erich, while Grandpa showed young Hubert and Otto how to pitch a tent in the back garden. But a week was quite long enough – indeed, Claudia did not make it past Wednesday before asking for Mummy. She held out however, pacified by Grandma’s cooking, and on Saturday they left for home.

Helga appeared in the doorway as they pulled up to the house, and started down the drive as they all got out of the car. Claudia and Otto ran to meet her, and even young Hubert was not too macho to give her a hug.

“Oh my darlings, Mummy missed you,” Helga mumbled into their hair. She rose as Hubert approached. “And where is my wonderful husband?”

He kissed her cheek as she took Erich from him. “Did you have a relaxing time?”

“Mm.” She moved closer and whispered in his ear, “I hardly got out of bed.”

***

Hans looks like Helga, and no-one asks any questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, I don't know what happened there. Who knew cuckolding was so difficult to write?


	6. Chapter 6

Helga added up the figures and wrote the total neatly at the bottom of the column. They had agreed when they married that she would be in charge of the money – a job that required far less juggling of bills and expenses now that they had plenty of it. It was such a thrill to see the total growing larger and larger as the months and years went by. Even the expense of five children and household staff barely made a dent in their wealth. They could afford to splash some of it around. Perhaps some horses. And some strapping stable-boys to go with them.

Helga closed the ledger and crossed to the drinks cabinet, only vaguely aware of the study door opening behind her. She had just poured herself a nice stiff one when Hubert slid his arms around her waist.

“Well? Are we still rich?”

“Obscenely so,” Helga sighed, leaning back against him.

“Good,” Hubert murmured. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Helga frowned and had a steadying sip of her drink. “That sounds very ominous.”

“Oh, it is nothing _bad_ , I promise,” Hubert assured her. Helga turned in his arms to face him, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back. He looked nervous, she noticed, and wondered if she should have offered to pour him a drink too.

“Lately, I have been thinking…” He slid one of his hands onto her stomach. “…that Claudia might like a sister.”

Helga looked at him in surprise. The same thought had crossed _her_ mind from time to time, and truthfully she had been a little disappointed when Hans was born. But to hear it from Hubert – and the way he was rubbing her belly – surely he did not mean…?

“And how is this to be achieved?” she asked coyly.

He looked so shy, it was adorable.

“…In the usual way,” he answered, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“…I see,” Helga replied with a smile. She set her drink back on the cabinet and ran a finger up his shirt, considering which outfit and scenario would best put him in the mood. But a worrisome thought suddenly intruded, and she could not help but give it voice. “Is this because Claudia and Hans…?”

“Oh, Helga, no!” Hubert cried reproachfully, his hurt expression causing her own face to burn with shame. “How can you say such a thing? I have loved them both since before they were born!”

“I am sorry, Hubert,” Helga mumbled. “I know this to be true.” She took his hands, gazing into his eyes. “But we have never planned any of our babies, apart from Hubert Junior, and he _was_ mostly my idea. Is there something you are not telling me?”

She watched as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I worry about Claudia,” he admitted at last. “All of this… masculine energy in the house. The older boys refuse to do anything girly with her, and I fear the younger ones will follow suit. She will be left out, or…”

He did not continue, but Helga had a feeling she knew what it was he feared. She did not press him further, and after a moment he brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face.

“And you, Helga – do you not feel outnumbered by all of us _rough_ boys?”

Helga laughed a little at that, idly playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“It _would_ be nice to have another girl around here,” she admitted. Moving closer, she slid her arms around his waist, pressing her tummy against his paunch. “Although we have not yet lost the weight from the last baby.”

She caught a fleeting look of disappointment on his face. 

“I suppose we could adopt,” he offered.

“That would guarantee a girl,” Helga replied. “Claudia may end up with five brothers.”

Hubert nodded, tracing little circles on her back. “Still, I would like us to try.”

Helga gazed up at him for a few moments. Perhaps there was more that he was not telling her. But perhaps he really was enamoured with the idea of a baby girl. And he was _funny_ when she was pregnant – showing her off and strutting proudly beside her, even when he was not directly responsible for the size of her belly. Besides… she had been wanting him again lately, and was not about to turn him down now that he was offering. Boldly she ran her finger up the inside of his leg, tracing the contours of his glorious German manhood.

“Then we shall try.”

***

They get their wish. Her name is Renée.


End file.
